Roll Credits
by IgKnight
Summary: The apocalypse is over, and life goes on. Or does it? For Dean and Castiel, letting go isn't simple. An alternate version of events between Season 5 and 6. Destiel included. Rated M for later chapters. (Slow build to sexy times!)


Roll Credits

Chapter 1: After the End

When the hole in the floor finally closed, and Dean collapsed to his knees, I expected the world to end. I don't know why. It was illogical to think that. Sam had just sacrificed his life to save the planet and trap Lucifer in the cage once more. However, something in my mind made it feel like the end of one of Dean's movies. Not the one about the pizza man, but perhaps the one about the human group that try to destroy an asteroid before it can reach Earth; Armageddon.

Yes. It felt like everything was over. There would be no war between heaven and hell, because Sam was gone, and Dean was on the floor. There would be no paradise, because Earth was perfect just the way father made it. We were safe. We were done.

 _Carry on my wayward son._

But there was no blackout. Instead, there was the disorienting feeling of my individual atoms being shuffled back into place, like the enormous hand of Father moulding me back together. Suddenly I felt the sun on my skin once more. My skin. Jimmy was gone. My host had finally lost his grip on the vessel when Lucifer had torn me apart.

I blinked, allowing my eyes to readjust. They settled on Dean. My heart sank. A very apt human expression for a subtle heart rate fluctuation in response to visual stimuli. Dean's face was battered an bloodied. He had lost two brothers, and Bobby. It was difficult to gaze at so much pain painted onto one person.

I stepped toward him, and he caught the movement in his peripheral. His swollen features twisted in confusion, like he was staring at a mirage. I touched his forehead and healed him with my grace. There was an abundance moving through my body.

"Cas, are you God?" Dean asked.

I smiled and told him no. Then turned away and walked across the graveyard. Bobby's corpse was still warm. He'd been gone barely 5 minutes. I placed my finger on his temple. His neck cracked back into place. I felt the fibres of his trachea and oesophagus come alive and stitch themselves back together.

Bobby opened his eyes.

Dean didn't smile, and I knew what he was thinking. If God had brought me back, why hadn't he done it in time to save Sam?

I couldn't answer.

We would go our separate ways. That was the plan. Bobby returned to his junkyard. I would go to heaven. Dean would return to Lisa. I didn't like this plan. I could hear heaven calling, but it wasn't calling for me. It was calling for Michael. It was waiting for him to return. The heavenly hoard didn't want some fallen angel with tatty black wings, telling them to give up hope. They wanted Michael to rise up out of the cage, victorious. They wanted a miracle.

So instead of returning home, I followed Dean. I soared through the sky above the impala, keeping watch. At night, he pulled up to the side of the road and slept across the front bench. I flitted into the back seat and threw my trench coat over him. I was always careful to be up and out before he stirred. I knew he would consider this an invasion of personal space.

It took a while for me to realise that Dean was not going to Lisa's. In fact, we were almost at the Ohio state line. He'd headed east from Kansas, but instead of sailing north into Michigan he'd swept east through Indiana too. I did a quick scout of the area. Nothing seemed to be following him. He wasn't in any danger.

It wasn't until we were almost in Pennsylvania that he said my name. He pulled of the I-90, and found a secluded spot to stop. I scowled at the sign as we passed it "Hell Hollow Wilderness".

He dragged himself out of the impala and slumped against the glossy black hood. There was a moment where I thought he was just there to take in the view. Despite the name, the landscape was breathtaking. Paine Creek had cut a gorge through the earth's face, leaving behind a cascade of natural carved steps. The only sign of man was the sign at the entrance, and the small car park. The rest was God's work.

"Cas?"

I stilled, mid-air. He couldn't possibly know I was there.

"Cas, get your ass down here. I know you've been following me."

I sighed, then beat my wings soft until I was on the ground. He heard the flutter and snapped round.

"I thought you were going to Heaven."

"I thought you were going to Michigan."

Dean frowned. I had no trouble understanding his trail of thought. He couldn't go to Michigan. Michigan was the start of getting on with life. It was the end. It was Sam's name on the credit sequence. We didn't say anything for a while. Dean stared at the floor, I stared at him. I had the oddest sensation in my stomach, like my whole abdominal structure was trying to compact itself into a dense mass and wrench itself free.

"I can't go to Michigan, Cas."

"I know. I can't go to heaven."

His green eyes flickered up in surprise, "Why not?"

Oddly, it was not the celestial weeping of Michael's name that sprang to mind. That was a factor, but I realised that I did not want Sam or Dean to slip into the credits. Particularly Dean.

"Cas?"

"It doesn't feel right. I can't."

For the first time since I'd known him, Dean stepped into my personal space. He eyed me closely. My skin tingled. Since Jimmy Novak had left his body, I had begun to understand more and more human phrases. This moment became my definition of "heart beating out of my chest." I couldn't understand why I would feel like this. I wasn't scared, nor was I angry. I was perhaps a little unnerved, but I had stood this close to Dean so many times since I had raised him from the pit. The feeling made no sense.

Dean nodded, "It's good to have you on my team, Cas."

"Your team?"

"Yes. Me and you, we're going to save Sammy."

I saw the tears well up in his eyes, and before I really knew what I was doing, I reached out and pulled him into my arms. Dean stiffened in my embrace. I closed my eyes and held him tighter.

"Uh, Cas?"

"I'm sorry, Dean. For some reason it felt appropriate."

"Alright."

We stood there for approximately 2 minutes before Dean patted me on the back. Then he coughed. Then squirmed slightly.

"Cas, buddy, I think that's long enough."

I opened my eyes and cleared my throat, "Sorry, Dean. I'm still not used to this."

"Used to what?"

"Having this vessel to myself."

"What?"

"Jimmy Novak is now in heaven. And I, uh, I suppose I'm feeling things more than I used to. I guess his human essence used to act as a buffer between myself and this bodies hormonal compulsions."

"Jimmy's dead?"

"Yeah."

Dean's brow furrowed, "Have you told his family yet?"

"Oh, no. I hadn't really thought about it, but that does seem like the appropriate thing to do."

"Do you need to go now?"

The expression on Dean's face was inscrutable. Would he be annoyed if I left? Or would he disapprove that I didn't want to go back? I couldn't tell, so I went with what my body told me to do.

"I'll go when Sam is safe."

Dean smiled.


End file.
